They're Gonna Put Me in the Movies
by Sawyer Fan
Summary: The Skysurfer Strike Force is forced into a situation where make believe is suddenly made beliveable; where trouble and help come from unexpected places.
1. Chapter 1

THEY'RE GONNA PUT ME IN THE MOVIES

By Sawyer Fan

This is the first fan fiction I've seen based off the cartoon Skysurfer Strike Force. I don't own any of the characters from that show, and I'm only doing this for fun, no profit.

Mostly a Mickey/Crazy Stunts & Brad Wright/Soar Loser buddy piece. The other Skysurfers are in this too.

Not beta'd, so there will be mistakes. Hopefully not too many :).

Rated PG for action violence.

"Whoo-oo hew! Get 'em Captain Spartan!" Mickey Flannigan cried as he leapt from his theater chair."Gotta save your best bud, Rigby, cause he's about to get fried!"

"Let him!" Another customer screamed across the sparsely populated theater. "Ain't nothing but a wuss anyway."

"The guy does have a point," Mickey's friend, Brad Wright, said with a chuckle. "Rigby always needs saving. Maybe if he quit hanging around Captain Spartan, and got a life, he wouldn't be getting into so much trouble."

"I know better than to expect you to understand. You hate these movies," Mickey replied as he used his elbow to jab at Brad. "You're going to make me miss the rescue. Shut up."

"Boo hoo," Brad muttered sarcastically. "Now you've gone and hurt my feelings. Its not like you haven't seen this movie over a million times already. Don't you find it pathetic that poor Rigby gets placed into danger so Mr. Hero can swoop in and get all the kudos?"

"Well, if Captain Spartan didn't have someone to rescue, he wouldn't be...well, Captain Spartan."

Brad sat up straight in his seat, and gave Mickey a pseudo look of shock. "I'm amazed you came up with such a '_deep'_ statement like that so fast!"

"Aw, cut it out!" Mickey snapped. "Why do you even come with me for?"

Running his hands through his slightly shaggy, thick brown hair, Brad grinned to himself as he settled back into his chair. "There's this beach dude who has a long ponytail past his butt, and every Tuesday, he kidnaps me and forces me to stay his prisoner in this ancient movie palace that shows really awful movies."

"Whoa, what a horror story," Mickey mumbled, keeping his eyes glued to the movie screen. "You oughta turn it into a motion picture."

"Yeah, I should," Brad said with a laugh. "Its gotta be better than what's shown here."

"Go to sleep or something. Let me watch my movie in peace."

"Oh? Are we actually watching a movie? I thought we were watching Captain Spartan?"

"I'm trying to _'watch'_ Captain Spartan," Mickey said in agitation, sharply turning to face his friend. The sudden movement jarred the large cup of cola he was holding, which loosened the plastic lid, drenching Brad's left side with soda pop.

"Yuck! Mickey! Watch what you're doing!" Shaking his arm in disgust, Brad moaned to himself when he saw the sparks flying out from his watch-like contraption called a digitran. Both he and Mickey were members of a group of five crime fighters known as the Skysurfer Strike Force. The digitrans enabled them to change into their combat outfits, and transformed their specially designed cars into jet-powered, flying vehicles that resembled over-sized surf boards.

Shrugging his broad shoulders, Mickey gave his best friend a rueful smile as he pulled his long, auburn ponytail out of reach from the stream of soda. "O-o-ops. Suppose '_sorry'_ won't cut it?"

"Nope. Especially since you don't mean it." The young Skysurfer said with a frown. "I know you don't care right now, but I'm going to try and clean some of this pop off me in the restroom. Probably should head back to base too. My digitran is acting funny."

"Bummer. You're going to miss the rest of the show."

"Wow, that is right," Brad uttered in mock dismay. "I'll be forced to miss this movie that has absolutely no acting or plot. I may never be able to forgive you for this, Mickey."

Returning his attention back to the screen, Mickey waved his friend onward. "I guess I'll have to live with it. Bye."

Walking past the concessions stand, Brad found the bathroom and entered inside. In a cramped area separate from the rest of the room he found two sinks, and began the process of washing the cola off his arm. Due to the location of the basins, the young Skysurfer couldn't see the movements of anyone coming or going, so he was quite startled to find someone standing behind him when he reached for a paper towel to dry off with.

Surprise soon turned to trepidation when Brad took in the appearance of a tall man wearing a flowing black cape with a matching low-brim hat that covered his eyes in shadows. His attire resembled the late Victorian era, but what bothered the young Skysurfer the most was how the stranger just stared at him silently with an evil looking sneer on his thin mouth. It felt like he was in one of those crummy B movies complete with the cheesy villain.

"Both sinks are free...," Brad finally said, the eerie atmosphere unsettling him more than he wanted to admit. The odd dressed man continued to remain silent, the head rising a bit to allow his eyes to been seen fully.

'_Whoa...." _Brad thought to himself, a bit taken back by what he saw inside the stranger's brown orbs. It was a look of pure hate that was directed at him. _'What's this guy's problem?.'_

"Forgotten me so soon, my dear boy?" the older man spoke, his deep voice seeming to fill the tiny area. "I certainly haven't forgotten you."

"What? I think you're confusing me with someone else, because we've never met."

"Oh, I know you very well. I watch you and your friend come here every Tuesday." The stranger took a step closer to Brad in a deliberate manner, blocking the direct path out. "Allow me to remind you who I am."

"Since I'm soaked with cola, I think I'll head on home." Brad's forward motion was cut short by the unyielding stance of the sinister looking man.

"I'm insisting you do stay." The words were spoken in a menacing tone, the stranger's eyes taking on an almost fanatical intensity that caused an involuntary shudder down Brad's spine.

'_Okay, this dude is totally mental. Time to stop talking to the crazy man and just get out.' _Edging slowly to his right, Brad attempted to clear the wall that separated the wash area from rest of the bathroom. With a vicious snarl, the man lunged forward, grabbing Brad's upper arms in a steel grip, preventing the young Skysurfer from leaving.

"Hey!" Brad cried out in anger and shock. "What's the deal?" The grip tightened on his biceps in reply as he was shoved up hard against the wall. This guy was strong...really strong.

"Your fate is mine to decide! No matter how hard you try, you can never escape me!" the stranger said with venomous bravado. To prove his point, he lifted his trapped prey a couple of inches off the ground.

"Watch me!" Brad snapped back, taking advantage of his elevated position by kicking his legs up, and using his feet to push against his antagonist's chest. The man's hold instantly broke as he was sent flying back into the opposite wall.

Making a mad dash to the bathroom door, Brad could hear his attacker's maniacal laughter behind him. A twist of the doorknob caused a knot of dread to form in his stomach. It wouldn't budge....

"Hey! The door's stuck!" Brad called out as he banged repeatedly on the heavy wood, still trying desperately to open it with his other hand. "Is anybody out there? I can't get out!"

"Hoping someone will _'rescue'_ you?" the stranger taunted, moving in behind the young Skysurfer. Pulling out a neatly folded handkerchief, he snapped it out of shape with a flick of his wrist. "Who's going to hear your pleas for help with a gag over your mouth?" Lifting his cloak to one side, the man revealed several strands of rope hidden underneath. "And you certainly won't be able to run from me with your hands and feet bound, now would you?"

"You're not going to find out, sicko!" Brad shot back defiantly, grasping his digitran. If this loon wanted to play hardball, then so be it! He pushed on the button that would transform him into his Skysurfer persona, The Soar Loser, but instead of a flash of light, electronic hissing noises emerged from the device. "Nuts!"

"Trouble?"

"Only for you! Come any closer, I won't hesitate to kick your butt!"

"You are a spirited one. The others would usually be trembling with fear by now." A malicious smile took over the man's malevolent features. "Not to worry, you'll come to understand their fear...soon enough."

As the stranger inched closer, Brad found himself trapped with his back up against the door, unable to tear his eyes away from the figure meaning to do him harm. His mind was screaming at him to do something, but as he continued to look into his antagonist's intense, dark eyes, the young Skysurfer inexplicably felt like he was frozen in place, a sense of dread and helplessness overtaking him. What was going on? Why wasn't he fighting back?

"Yo, Brad!" a familiar voice yelled from the other side of the door. "Is that you making all that ruckus? What's wrong?"

"Mickey!" Brad called out, snapping out of his trance like state as if it never happened. "The door's stuck, and there's this freaky guy in here...."

Instantly the door flew open, and Mickey hurried inside to help. "Where's this freaky dude?" the youngest Skysurfer demanded as he entered. "There ain't nobody in here. You did this on purpose, didn't you? To make me miss my movie!"

"No! I swear to you that creep was behind me a second ago!" a stupefied Brad tried to explain to his irritated teammate. "He was real tall, and super strong with a long, black cape and hat. Its... its like he vanished into thin air." Noticing Mickey's angry looks, the brunette Skysurfer stormed out of the bathroom in frustration. "Fine! Don't believe me! Who cares if that goon was trying to kidnap me?"

"Yeah right," Mickey muttered, walking back towards the screening area. "I'm going to finish my movie. I shoulda known you weren't in any real trouble. The door wasn't even jammed."

Brad watched his buddy leave, unable to think of anything to say in his defense. It did sound phoney; a tall stranger who wasn't there; a door that wasn't stuck, and he had picked on Mickey all throughout the movie. Okay, maybe the door wasn't jammed, and his inability to open it was due to a bit of panic, but that evil looking guy was real. Then where did he disappear to?

"That's one mystery I'll happily leave unsolved," Brad said to himself with a shudder as he left the theater, taking a quick glance back to make sure the stranger was truly gone. "I better get my digitran looked at before anything else happens."

****************************************************************

Walking through the hangar doors of the abandoned air field that now housed the Skysurfer's base of operations, Brad waved in greeting when he saw the 6' foot 8" figure of African-American, Nathan '_Nate_' James, who was also Air Enforcer.

"What happened to you?" Nate asked, taking in Brad's wet clothes, and pensive countenance. "The movie stink that bad?"

"To tell you the truth, Nate, I'm not all that sure what happened myself," Brad said honestly. "Is Kim here? I need her to look at my digitran."

"I'm not telling you anything until you explain yourself better. Don't leave my imagination to do all the work." The large Skysurfer noticed red blemishes on Brad's biceps. "How'd you get those marks? Boy, they're going to turn nasty colors by tomorrow."

"I promise I'll tell you all about it later. Right now all I want to do is get my digitran checked out, clean up, and forget today ever happened."

"Just don't forget what happened today until you tell me, ok?" Nate called out to his departing teammate.

Brad found Kimberly Sakai, who's code name was Sliced Ice, in the computer room, pouring over a list of names that were on the gigantic computer screen. Her brown eyes opened wide when she viewed her friend's appearance.

"What in the world happened to you?" Kim said in alarm, her eyes traveling to Brad's sleeve-less arms. Whoever grabbed him there had meant business from the looks of the marks....

"It's a long and weird story, Kim," Brad replied wearily. "Could you take a look at my digitran? I tried to use it, but nothing happened."

"What's all over it?" Kim asked as she took the device. "Its all sticky."

"Thanks to Mickey....cola."

"Dumped the whole cup on you?"

"Pretty much. What didn't land on me, got on the digitran. I don't know if it's the pop causing the problem, since we can get them wet."

Kim turned the digitran around in her hands, trying the button herself. Sparks and hisses told the raven haired female all she needed to know. "Oh, it's the cola alright. I'll have to take it totally apart since it seems saturated inside and out. If it's as bad as I think it is, you'll be out of commission two days tops."

Moaning softly, Brad shrugged his shoulders. "It figures. Fits right in with everything else that happened today." He paused before leaving the room, and gave a slight smile. "Thanks, Kim."

"That's it?" Kim asked incredulously. "You're not going to bother to tell me what happened? You and your digitran are covered in soda, your arms are beginning to bruise, and you told me yourself you tried to transform into Soar Loser. Why?"

"Ask Nate, ok? I just want to take a long shower."

"Sure," Kim said with a nod, her face showing worry for her teammate. Something more serious happened at the theater, she was sure of it. Those nasty contuses on his arms didn't come from an accidental spilling of Mickey's drink.

**************************************************************************

After returning from the movie theater, Mickey rushed into Brad's room, breathless and excited. "Man, you won't believe who I just saw!"

"You saw him didn't you!" Brad guessed as he put his book down beside him on his bed. "That creepy guy?"

"What creepy guy?"

"The one I told you about," Brad replied irritably. "Y'know, the one who threatened me in the bathroom."

"Oh yeah," Mickey shrugged, "the dude with the hat and cape. Nope, didn't see anyone who fit that description, but I did meet the guy who makes all those great movies they show. He owns the place!"

"That doesn't surprise me. No one else would show those tacky pictures."

"You're just jealous."

"Oh, am I? You're the one with the _'green'_ eyes, mine are blue."

Pulling on the lapels of his open, external shirt, Mickey rocked back and forth on his heels. "Mr. Wessell, that's the owner, said I would make the perfect, modern day Captain Spartan. I have those rugged, he-man looks."

"Puh-leeze!" Brad groaned, rolling his eyes upward. "The guy's probably just thrilled to find someone who actually likes his movies, that's all. I wouldn't go packing my bags for Hollywood yet."

"Mr. Wessell said you could play my side-kick. He said you would be perfect for the role."

"Your what?" Springing up from his bed, Brad got right into Mickey's face. "You mean like that little wuss, Rigby? I suppose that was _your _little contribution?"

"Chill out, dude! It was all Mr. Wessell's idea. I even suggested we both play the hero, but he wouldn't hear of it."

"Yeah well, I wouldn't be in one of his movies if he paid me a million dollars! Even if I played the hero!" Brad stopped his mild tirade, and glared at Mickey. "Speaking of that, why couldn't I play the hero?"

Mickey smiled to himself, and shrugged his broad shoulders. "What does it matter anyway? Said you wouldn't be in any of his movies, no matter what."

"You got that right!" Sitting himself back down on his bed, Brad motioned for Mickey to sit opposite him. "So...when are you going to do this big remake?"

"Don't know yet. I'm supposed to meet with Mr. Wessell tomorrow before the double feature at the theater. He wanted to discuss it all then."

"But how can you do this picture, Mickey? You're a Skysurfer, remember? That's almost a 24 hour job in itself sometimes."

Mickey rubbed his dimpled chin thoughtfully. "I didn't think of that. At least we can go tomorrow and hear Mr. Wessell out."

"WE?" Shaking his head emphatically, Brad poked his index finger into his friend's expansive chest. "You are going alone. I'm not stepping foot in that weird place again."

"Drop the gag, okay? I'm not mad at you anymore about making that freaky dude up."

With an agitated huff, Brad pulled up on the sleeve of his T-shirt, exposing the deepening bruises on his left arm. "Can a figment of my imagination do this?"

"Whoa...," Mickey said, his eyes doubling in size. "Dude, I'm sorry I doubted you. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Lowering his sleeve, Brad looked away, unsure how explain it. "It all happened so fast...and it was like...I don't know...like I was in one of those Captain Spartan movies."

"It was probably a guy dressed up like his favorite character, and he got too carried away," Mickey offered. "I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you. He was just play acting."

"You weren't stuck in there with him," Brad said defensively. "The jerk thought he was the villain. He was even spouting off some cheesy dialogue that would fit in one of those lousy movies."

"What'd he say exactly?"

"At first he just stared, then he said he knew who I was, and that he was going to remind me of who he is," Brad replied sheepishly. "When I tried to leave, he grabbed a hold of me...saying some crap about my fate was his to decide, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never escape him...."

"You said this dude was wearing a hat and a black cape?" Receiving a nod from his teammate, Mickey continued. "Was his clothes like something from the past?"

"Victorian era, I think."

"What else happened?"

"After I got away, I tried to open the bathroom door, but it wouldn't budge," Brad recalled with an inward shudder. "The guy was doing one of those creepy villain laughs, and he pulled out a handkerchief, and flipped it in front of my face...."

"Did he say, _'hoping someone will rescue you?'_" Mickey asked excitedly, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "_Who's going to hear your pleas for help with a gag over your mouth?_"

"Yeah! He did say that!"

"Did he also show you some rope under his cape, and say, _'you won't be able to run from_ _me with your hands and feet bound, now would you?'_"

Brad's mouth fell open in disbelief. "How did you know he said all that, Mickey?"

"Easy. That was a scene from "Witness to the Will". The villain in that movie was dressed exactly like the dude you saw."

"Uhm, what was the guy going to do next?" Brad leaned forward anxiously.

"Well...he ties you up, then carries you off to some evil looking joint where he tries to kill you through various horrifying means," Mickey said matter-of-fact.

"What did I do to deserve...?" Brad grabbed the sides of his head and grimaced. "This is crazy! I can't believe that jerk got under my skin so bad that I'm falling for the victim routine!"

"Don't worry about that guy. Besides, you don't get wasted in the movie. I, as Captain Spartan, will save you in the nick of time."

"Thank you, Mickey," Brad spoke with heavy sarcasm. "Is your heroics before or after I face horrible peril?"

"After, of course. Gotta make it dramatic."

"No thanks. I prefer to forgo the perils, so I need a hero who's more on the ball."

"Ha ha."

"You had it coming."

"Yeah, I guess so," Mickey admitted, the smile fading from his face as it was replaced by a more somber look. "I always dreamed of being Captain Spartan when I was growing up, and now I have the chance to live it out for real."

"But you already do."

"Huh?"

"You're a Skysurfer, a genuine hero, not some actor pretending to be one. You do battle with an evil villain who has a computer for a brain, and his half-human, half robot, Bio-borgs. Captain Spartan has nothing on that action."

His smile returning, Mickey nodded in agreement. "I never thought of it that way before. Thanks, pal!"

"I had to say something," Brad said with a half-way grin, "your bottom lip was hanging so low that you were slobbering on my bed."

"Oh yeah?" Mickey cried out in mock anger, giving his best friend a shove backwards.

"Yeah!" Brad challenged with a shove back, sending his teammate to the floor. Soon the two friends were play wrestling, unaware of the noise they were creating.

"Achem." Brad and Mickey froze when they recognized the voice of the Skysurfer's team leader, Jack Hollister, who was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed in front of him. "When you two are done with Wrestlemania 2000, could you possibly meet with the rest of us in the computer room?"

"No problem," Mickey said with an embarrassed shrug.

"Good." Jack began to leave, but paused outside the room. "And by the way, will you '_please_' tell Nate what happened to you today, Brad? He's driving me nuts."

******************************************************************

All five members of the Skysurfer Strike Force stood around the large computer screen as Jack punched in the information he had received from intelligence reports in Washington D.C..

"According to my sources," Jack said, turning to the others behind him, "there's been a flurry of purchases of very high-tech components."

"Think its Cybron?" Kim asked as she searched through the list of parts that were bought. "A lot of this stuff has to do with the type of holograms that his bio-borg, Easel, specializes in. At least I hope its him. We don't need someone else who has the ability to turn ordinary pictures into life-like, energy based, objects."

"I know," Jack agreed, "that's why I'm taking an interest in this list. Yet, I can't shake this feeling that its not what we think, that its different somehow."

"Who are all the parts going to?" Nate asked.

"All I know is that they're being shipped all over the country."

"It could be one buyer deliberately making it look like several to throw people off the track," Kim suggested. "It would make it harder to hunt that person down."

"Something Cybron is good at," Nate said with disgust. "Wonder what twisted scheme he's cooking up now?"

"Whatever it is, we'll stop him," Brad said confidently.

"You won't, Brad," Kim interjected, "at least not for a couple of days. I got a good look at your digitran, and it's a real mess. I'll have to completely rewire it."

Brad glared over at his _former_ best friend. "Thanks a lot, Mickey," he muttered under his breath.

"Hey man, it was an accident," Mickey replied defensively. "I get excited, alright?"

Printing out a list of the stores that sold the equipment, Jack tore the page in half, giving Nate the other part. "Kim, I want you to stay here and work on Brad's digitran. Nate, you and I will check out these stores tomorrow."

"I can check out some of the stores too," Brad offered, not wanting to be left out of the hunt.

"No." Jack said firmly. "If Cybron and his bio-borgs are involved, I don't want you anywhere near them without your digitran."

"I thought you and Mickey were going to that double feature at that theater tomorrow," Nate recalled.

"Mickey's going by himself. I will not step foot in that place again."

"Aw, c'mon, Brad," Mickey pleaded, "like I said before, the guy probably didn't mean any harm. He was just some kooky dude."

The other three Skysurfers exchanged glances before turning back to their teammates. "WHAT HAPPENED?" they said in unison.

Mickey gave a small snort. "Oh, some guy dressed like a villain from a movie freaked Brad out in the bathroom."

"You wouldn't be so smug if it was you trapped in there with him!" Brad answered back sharply. "The creep was totally mental."

"He was only acting out a part. I don't think he would've tried anything for real."

"He had ropes under his cape! I don't think he was going to show me how to make a lasso!"

Placing his large hands upon both his friend's shoulders, Nate briefly stopped the quarrel. "Is that how you got those bruises?" Getting a reluctant nod from Brad, the oldest of the group gave a shake of his bald head. "I think whoever this guy was, he meant business. How'd you get this joker's attention?"

"Just lucky, I guess," Brad mumbled. "I was washing the pop off me, and when I turn around, there's this weird guy. When I tried to leave, he totally flipped and threatened me."

"From the look of your arms, I'd say he did more than threaten," Nate said as he lifted the sleeve of Brad's t-shirt a fraction. "You obviously got away when he grabbed you, so what happened then?"

"I got to the door, but I couldn't get the knob to turn or anything, and Mr. Freaky was playing show and tell with his '_props'_."

"When I went to replace the soda I spilled, I heard Brad yelling and banging on the door clear across the lobby," Mickey added. "The door opened real easy, and there was no one else in there but Brad. Must've scared the dude off."

"My hero," Brad mumbled under his breath.

"Was that when you tried to use your digitran?" Kim wondered out loud.

"Yeah...," Brad admitted slowly, mentally kicking himself for revealing that bit of information to Kim earlier.

"Wasn't turning into Soar Loser a bit drastic?" Jack asked sternly. "Surely you could've held this crack pot at bay without having to change."

Brad scowled at his leader, not liking the insinuation. None of them understood. Taking a minute to collect his thoughts, the young Skysurfer tried to hide the irritation growing to a boiling point inside him. Okay, he was prone to jump into situations without thinking things through, but this was different. They didn't see or experience the naked hatred and evil the costumed man emanated. This creep made Cybron and the bio-borgs look friendly.

"Whoever Mr. Freaky was, he wasn't your ordinary waco. The guy was real strong, and it took all I had to just break free from his grip alone." Stopping to take a deep breath, he continued, hoping somehow to explain what it felt like for him. "Not to mention it was all surreal, like I was a helpless pawn in some awful horror movie. I couldn't open the door, and all the while some mental case was threatening to kidnap me, so yeah, I was going to better my odds by changing into Soar Loser."

"Good thing you couldn't," the Skysurfer leader said in a scolding tone. "You can't go changing in front of just anyone. One of our greatest advantages is our anonymity."

Feeling a bit of sympathy for his younger teammate, Nate pointed to Brad's right arm. "Jack, take a look at what that '_crack pot_' did. If someone had done that to me, I'd be doing everything I could to make sure it didn't happen again."

Rising from his seat, Jack studied both of his friend's arms, amazed at the depth of the contusions. Alright, whoever made the marks was incredibly strong, but it wasn't like Brad to overreact because some kook was taking his role playing too far. It seemed to him his young teammate was spooked by this experience, but why?

"If you want to talk more about what happened later," Jack offered.

"I'm fine! Why shouldn't I be?" Brad snapped, jerking his body backwards. "Its only some looney fan who got carried away, so everyone is trying to tell me!" With that said, he turned and left the room, unable to deal anymore with his friends' patronizing attitudes.

"Boy, Brad's really worked up about all this," Mickey spoke quietly, watching his best friend's retreating back. "Do you think he's just ticked because the dude caught him off-guard?"

"I wish it were that simple," Kim mused out loud, "but I think Brad's just as confused as we are about what happened to him."

"Huh?"

Kim smiled at Mickey's comment. "Precisely."

"We'll give Brad some space," Jack suggested, "and focus our attention on finding out who is buying these tech parts, and why. Agreed?"

"Agreed," the other three Skysurfers replied as one.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Throwing himself bodily upon his bed, Brad closed his eyes in frustration. What was wrong with him? How could he have let some creep in a dated costume freak him out? The Skysurfer's mortal enemy, Cybron, was more of a visual and physical threat than the man in the theater. Half human and half robot, Cybron and his bio-borgs were walking weapons, each capable of destruction on their own accord. He never had a problem taking any of them on, or anybody else for that matter.

He had suffered through a multitude of battle scars after many fights with Cybron and his cronies, so why should some bruises he received from a twisted movie fan affect him? What was so different about this experience? The young Skysurfer sighed to himself.

If he was truly honest, he couldn't blame the painful contusions for his unease. It all boiled down to the strange man's eyes and voice, and how they seemed to overtake his mind and body so completely. Was this guy some sort of hypnotist? By looking into those eyes long enough, did he unwittingly become prey to the power of suggestion?

'_Yeah, maybe he was a hypnotist,'_ Brad thought to himself, _'and it took me off guard.'_ He allowed that thought to play over and over in his mind until the tense muscles throughout his body relaxed.

A soft knock to his door caused the young Skysurfer to bolt upright in his bed. Glancing at his digital clock on a night stand beside him, Brad realized he had fallen asleep for a couple of hours. He rarely took naps....

"Brad, it's Jack," the lead Skysurfer called out.

Opening the door to his room slightly, the younger man eyed Sky One warily. "I'm fine," he mumbled, not wanting to rehash what had happened back in the computer room.

The blonde team leader shook his head. "No you're not, but we'll discuss that later. I'm here to find out what's up with Mickey."

"What?" Brad backed away from the doorway and allowed Jack access to his room.

"I asked Mickey to take some of the stores from the list, and he actually told me he couldn't. He _had_ to be at that movie theater tomorrow."

The younger Skysurfer shrugged. "I guess that freak palace is showing two movies that haven't been seen in over fifty years. Mickey's been practically drooling at the mouth to see them," he replied, deliberately leaving out the part about his friend being asked to play Captain Spartan.

"That's it?" Jack didn't buy the excuse. "Mickey doesn't ever turn down a chance to mess with Cybron, but he refuses this time because of some old movies?"

"He's a really big Captain Spartan nut," Brad tried to explain without giving too much away. Why was he even bothering to keep Mickey's movie offer a secret? "Who knows when they'll show those movies again...."

"He's a member of this team," Jack interrupted, "and Mickey can always get those movies on DVD."

"None of Mr. Wessell's movies are available in DVD or anything."

"Mr. Wessell?"

"The owner of the theater," Brad responded without thinking. "He also was the maker of the Captain Spartan movies."

"How do you know all that? Have you and Mickey met him?"

"No..., I haven't," Brad faltered.

"But Mickey has?" Taking Brad's silence as a yes, the head Skysurfer frowned. "The name Wessell was on the list. It could be a coincidence, but I want you and Mickey to check things out at the theater, just in case."

Brad tried to control the instant panic inside him at the mention of going back inside the old movie palace. "I-I thought you didn't want me investigating...."

Jack's face softened as he addressed his younger teammate. "You need to face whatever that lunatic fan said or did. It'll keep haunting you until you deal with it." Seeing Brad about to protest, the blonde raised up a hand in a bid for quiet. "Don't leave Mickey's side for nothing. I'm not suggesting you can't take care of yourself, but I want Mickey's back watched too. I don't think that goon will mess with both of you."

"You're right," Brad admitted with a resigned sigh. He couldn't stand by and allow that sicko to maybe hurt his best friend, but why did he feel like he had just agreed to stand in front of a firing squad? "I'll go."

"If there's any sign of trouble, Mickey can contact me, but I want you to head straight back to base. Don't take any chances."

"Yeah, sure," Brad agreed with a monotone voice. Even Jack was now treating him like some helpless victim.

***********************************************************************************************************

Tucking the remainder of his midnight blue shirt into his jeans, Brad noticed Mickey hesitating outside the hallway. Throwing his best friend a dirty look, he returned to his dressing, rolling up the long sleeves a couple of inches. The shirt would hide the hideous bruises on his upper arms.

"You okay with going with me today?" Mickey asked, noting the scowl on Brad's face.

Brad continued to fiddle with his shirt, buttoning it up halfway, to show a little of the white tank top he wore underneath.

"Aw, c'mon! Don't go all silent movie on me here...," the youngest Skysurfer smirked at his clever reference. "Besides, I want my best bud by me when we talk to Mr. Wessell."

"Did Jack tell you about a Wessell being on the list?" Brad finally spoke as he looked up at his teammate.

Mickey whiffed his hand through the air in a dismissive manner. "Mr. Wessell's harmless...I think Jack's overreacting. It's gotta be some other person."

"Maybe Mr. Wessell is buying up gadgets to use in his '_remakes_', and destroy the world through stupidity."

"Oh, ha ha ha," Mickey shot back. "Hurry it up. I want to grab something to eat at Whirlee's before we meet Mr. Wessell. And I'll even buy!"

"That's the least you can do, cause you owe me big time for making me sit through two of those movies."

"You'll get a good nap in," Mickey said with a big grin, "while I keep an eye out for any trouble."

"You'll be too busy watching the screen when I disappear," Brad replied with little humor in his voice. "Lets get this over with."

************************************************************************************************************

Mickey tapped gently on the small pane of glass on the upper portion of the door. "This is where Mr. Wessell said he lived. Its twelve o'clock...wonder where he is?" Glancing next door, he nudged Brad and pointed in that direction. "Maybe he's over at the theater instead."

"Swell," Brad muttered under his breath. "Might as well have the psycho attack me now, and get it all over with right away."

"Cut it out, Brad. Ain't nothing gonna happen while I'm around."

Sighing dramatically, Brad clasped his hands together and placed them under his chin. "Oh, how could I ever doubt you, great hero type!"

"You keep that up, I'll let anyone take off with you," Mickey mumbled in response. He peered through the big theater doors and shook his head. "Doesn't seem to be here either. Better go back to Mr. Wessell's place and try again."

"Fine by me." Taking a quick glance back towards the theater, Brad froze in his tracks as he saw someone staring back at him. "Mickey! Its him!"

"Chill out dude," Mickey cried out as he hurried to his friend's side. "There's no one there."

"Yes...there...was...," Brad said through gritted teeth.

"Who's there, young man?" A voice asked behind the Skysurfers.

"A-augh!" Brad yelled in surprise as he felt a boney hand clamp onto his shoulder.

Mickey started laughing. "Dude, its only Mr. Wessell."

"I didn't mean to scare you," the elderly, slender man said in a gentle tone as if speaking to a child.

"You just caught me by surprise, that's all," Brad offered weakly, taking a few steps away from the man.

Mr. Wessell gave a knowing smile and chuckled. "The true surprise is waiting inside the theater. If you'd both be so kind as to follow me..." Ushering the two Skysurfers inside, Mr. Wessell instantly locked the doors behind them.

"Why are you locking the doors?" Brad asked with more calm than he felt. Wasn't the locking of doors by a strange man in an old building one of horror movie's no-no's?

"To keep other people out, of course," Mr. Wessell replied with a wink. "I have something very special to show you boys, and I don't want any interruptions. Why are you so jumpy? Brad, isn't it?"

"Some dude dressed up like the villain from "Witness to the Will" threatened him yesterday," Mickey supplied, ignoring the deadly glare his teammate was giving him.

"Ah yes..., Harry Mertz. He was my best movie villain. Even gave the other actors he worked with the chills. Sadly they don't make artisans like that anymore," Mr. Wessell said wistfully. He led the two young men to a side door off of the lobby, and unlocked it. "This is an area the public has never seen, but since Mickey is such a big fan, I had to show it to you."

Mr. Wessell beamed with pride as he watched Mickey's face light up with delight. Even Brad was overwhelmed by what he saw. The small room was crammed with props and memorabilia from the various movies the director had made over the years, all preserved in pristine condition.

"Whoa! Mr. Wessell, this is so awesome!" Mickey gushed. "Its like a Captain Spartan shrine!"

The director laughed. "I guess you could call it that. And please, call me Wes. I knew you'd like this place, Mickey. I have every prop we ever used on those films right here."

"You sure do! Here's Captain Spartan's stun gun, Rigby's badge communicator, and this is Captain Spartan's hat and sunglasses! Totally far out!"

"That's him!" Brad cried out from across the room, gesturing to a movie poster framed on the wall. "That's the psycho creep who threatened me!" The brunette Skysurfer couldn't suppress the cold chill that ran down his spine. "The clothes...the eyes...everything is exactly the same...."

"That's Harry Mertz," Mr. Wessell answered, walking over to Brad. "You couldn't have seen him, he's been dead for over twenty years."

"I did see him," Brad insisted. "I'll never forget those eyes. Even in this poster they seem to be staring straight into me."

"What an odd coincidence that this certain movie should excite you so." The elderly man pointed to the right side of the poster. "Take a good look at the young man who was also in this film."

"Man, that dude looks almost exactly like ya, Brad!" Mickey exclaimed. "The same hair color, build, and age. I'll give you the edge in the looks department. He looks kinda wussy."

"Gee....thanks," Brad muttered, unable to take his eyes off of his look-a-like on the poster. "I take it this was the one the villain hated?"

Mr. Wessell nodded. "Yes, he was the only male I purposely used in a victim role before. Out of all my films, this movie was the one that people remembered the most."

"Isn't Rigby a victim role too?"

"Oh no, he's a sidekick."

'_Coulda fooled me,'_ Brad thought to himself.

"You know, Brad...you would make a great...no, improved replacement for the updating of that movie," Mr. Wessell suggested eagerly, clasping the young man by the shoulders. "I couldn't have anyone else but you!"

"No way!" Brad said emphatically, pulling himself out of the director's grasp. "I had enough of that creep in the bathroom yesterday, thank you."

"There's no need to overreact," Mr. Wessell said gently, "we're only discussing a movie, with actors, made years ago...."

"The man I met yesterday wasn't_ 'acting_', he really meant what he said!"

"To hear you talk, I'd swear you did see Harry Mertz, but how can that be?"

"I didn't believe him at first," Mickey chimed in, "but when he described the man, and repeated what he said from the movie, I knew he saw something. Then there's the wicked looking bruises the dude gave him...."

"Bruises?"

"Nothing to worry over," Brad interrupted, elbowing his teammate in the ribs to shut up.

Mr. Wessell turned pale at the information, but quickly recovered. "Enough on this subject. The reason I invited you boys here is to ask you about something special." With his eyes shining with excitement, he continued. "I've been thinking a lot lately of redoing some of my films, to make them more acceptable to a younger audience so to speak. When I first saw Mickey enter my theater, I knew instantly he'd make the perfect, modern day Captain Spartan! And since you two are friends, Brad could play...."

"The victim role of Rigby?" Brad asked with a tinge of disgust in his voice.

"Now, don't look at it in that sense. Every hero needs someone to rescue. Who better than the best friend? Your features are less rugged than Mickey's and your body is built smaller. Its nothing personal."

"Who says that Mickey's type is the only ones who can play the hero?"

"I say," Wessell replied somewhat forcefully, not liking his judgement being questioned. "They are my pictures, my brain child, and I dictate who plays what."

"Well, dictate to someone else," Brad shot back. "We aren't doing any remakes of your movies."

"What Brad means is **we can't**," Mickey inserted, placing a hand upon his irritated teammate's shoulder. "We can't take the time off to properly do a film for you."

Wessell swept his arms in front of him in a dramatic fashion. "I have the answer to both our dilemmas. In my projection booth, I have an invention that will make virtual reality a thing of the past."

"Does it make you feel like you're in a movie?" Mickey asked in awe.

"Better. It actually puts you '_inside_' one of my movies. You become the star!"

"Wait a minute. Are you saying that you can take someone and have them replace the original actor in an already made movie?" Brad questioned, an uneasy feeling coming over him.

"Oh yes, that is indeed what I am saying. I can also create totally new roles or situations. Everything you see, hear, taste, or touch will be as real as anything here." The old film maker smiled as he watched the two Skysurfers' incredulous expressions. "Why, we could make a full length feature in a couple of hours this way. Time isn't an issue anymore."

"Wow! I gotta see this!" Mickey cried out enthusiastically.

"Mickey," Brad said slowly, "I don't –"

"What could be the harm, lad?" Mr. Wessell interrupted, his voice dripping with sweetness. "Please just humor an old man by looking at his invention."

"Alright, we can **look** at your invention," Brad conceded, glancing purposely in Mickey's direction. "But that's all we're going to do." Maybe this machine was the answer to all the questions about those electronic components that they were investigating.

Climbing up several flights of stairs, Wessell led the two younger men to a small, dimly lit room. In the middle was a large, old fashioned movie projector with a computer keyboard attached to the back of it.

"Here it is!" Wessell exclaimed with a grand gesture. "I know it doesn't look like much, but I deliberately designed it that way. Didn't want people to take much notice of it, and then get too curious."

"How does it work?" Mickey asked, barely able to hide his excitement.

"Well, I already have all my original scripts inside the computer. I place a particular movie I want to remake onto the projector. After that is done, I punch in what I want to see different in the picture, and as the film plays, the 'changes' are recorded through my computer. When the show ends, I have a new movie."

"I see your computer board," Brad wondered aloud, "but where is the actual computer located?"

"The computer is located inside the projector," Wessell explained, opening up a small compartment on the side of the machine. "All the information is stored in here, as well as the mechanism that transfers human molecules onto the film."

"An actual person is transferred to the film?" Brad shook his chestnut brown mane in disbelief. "There's no way that can work! This sounds more like something you'd make a movie about...y'know...science fiction."

"Ah, but seeing is believing," the older man said coyly, lifting a remote control into the air. "What I have in my hands is the means of getting into the picture. Press the** power** button, and it transports you inside the film itself. The other buttons control what you want to happen. I'm going to press the power button, and when I disappear, I want you to watch the big screen. That will explain best how my machine works."

Seconds after Mr. Wessell pressed the power button, he was gone in a flash of light, with the projector rolling like he said it would. Mickey and Brad rushed to the small window that overlooked the screening area, and watched the big screen as instructed. Their mouths fell open in unison when they saw the image of the film maker appear.

"T-that's the opening scene to "Kill or Forget It"!" Mickey could barely spit out. "He's actually in the movie!"

"I-I can't believe what I'm seeing," Brad said almost inaudibly. "How can this happen?"

"How do we do what we do?" Mickey threw in, the excitement growing in his voice. "People would find how we transform into Skysurfers hard to believe too." He smacked his friend on the back, and pointed to the screen. "Look! Here comes one of the main characters of the film, and he's talking to Wes like he belongs in the show!"

On the screen, Mr. Wessell smiled, and turned to face the theater seats. "Is this enough proof for you, boys? To come back, all I do is press the **'power**' button again, and...." An instant later, the older gentleman was standing in front of the two Skysurfers as if he never left.

"Mr. Wessell, I'm sorry I doubted you," Brad offered. "That was truly amazing!"

"Thank you, Brad. I've been working on this for quite some time. As a matter of fact, I've only finished my invention about a week ago. Would you two like to try it out for yourselves?"

"Yeah!" Mickey shouted, nearly leaping up into the air. "Can I play Captain Spartan?"

Chucking, Mr. Wessell patted Mickey on the shoulder. "Of course you can! I haven't met anyone more perfect for that role other than the man who originally played him. How about you, Brad?"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Brad replied with a hint of sarcasm. "Playing some sicko's favorite pick-on isn't my idea of a good time."

"Maybe its time to change Rigby's role a bit. I have no doubt you'd give any villain a hard time. That spunky attitude along with your pretty-boy looks, the audience would love it! They'd be on the edge of their seats, hoping Mickey would swoop in to save his best friend from a terrible fate that couldn't be avoided, no matter how hard fought...."

"That'll be cool!" Mickey chimed in, before being silenced by his friend's dirty look.

"I have no intentions of being placed into a terrible situation, so there is no need for a rescue, thus eliminating a need for a picture."

The friendly look on Wessell's face disappeared, replaced by annoyance. "Anyone can become a victim without warning. I think you received a good sense of that when that strangely dressed man cornered you in the bathroom yesterday. I could tell the experience upset you by the way you stared at that poster."

"Yeah, and now you're suggesting I spend an entire movie being chased by him?" Brad replied testily, noting the sudden chill in the director's voice.

"Don't you want to show the villain that you're not afraid? You got away from him once, I'm sure you are quite capable of doing it again."

"What? I can't believe this! I don't care about the opinion of some stupid movie character...." A sudden thought struck Brad as he stared incredulously at the director. Was it purely coincidence that the creep from one of Wessell's movies showed up the way he did? And then disappeared without a trace? "Can your machine bring out the movie characters into our world?"

"Brad!" Mickey cried out in shock. "Are you suggesting Wes sicced The Demon on you yesterday? He wouldn't do that! That dude was nothing but pure evil, and you wouldn't have stood a chance without Captain Spartan."

"The Demon?" Brad turned his attention back to Wessell, his blue eyes large. The man he ran into yesterday could certainly be described as pure evil.

"The name of the character you saw," Wessell answered warily, willing his trembling limbs to stop before the boys noticed. He couldn't tell them the entire truth without the risk of jeopardizing his goals. "I wouldn't deliberately spring someone like him without warning. My machine is only intended to create movies where people couldn't complain of bad acting, because all the action is live and real. I would get true reactions to situations, not falsely generated ones. The participation would be voluntary, not forced."

"If the action is real, wouldn't that put the '_participants_' in harms way?" Brad queried, not liking the undertones. If his experience with The Demon was any indication....

"Oh no, no! I'll hand pick who I feel would best handle the situation, and do preparations first before letting them go inside the movie."

"Will the bullets and laser beams be real?"

"Of course. Like I said, everything will be as genuine as if it were happening in real life. Safety will be the first priority."

Brad shook his head at the reasoning. "It'll still be dangerous. Someone could get killed if they get in too much over their head."

"There's nothing to worry about. I have a special button to handle something like that." Wessell placed the remote into the younger man's hand and pointed. "If the scene gets too intense, all you have to do is press the '**stop action**' button, and the movie will automatically stop."

"I don't know...," Brad hesitated, giving the remote back to the director. "What if you get someone who doesn't have the sense to stop? Could the other person's remote stop the scene?"

"Right now there is only one remote," Wessell said slowly, "but I am planning on creating more remotes if my invention catches on."

"HUH? You want me and Mickey both to try out your machine with only one remote?" the brunette Skysurfer argued heatedly. "Since I'm playing the victim, how will Mr. Hero find me if I get drug off somewhere? This is twisted!"

"Please, calm yourself. I wouldn't leave you vulnerable like that," Wessell hurried to soothe. "I have small receiver that the other person can wear on them. It'll keep you and the one who has the remote in constant contact. Mickey would be able to find you, no matter where you were."

"See, Wes has it under control," Mickey spoke up, hoping to ease his friend's combativeness to the idea of testing the machine out for themselves. "I don't see the harm in just trying it out once. You're sounding like Jack now, worrying about everything."

"Someone has to practice some common sense around here," Brad shot back. "You just can't walk blindly into this!"

"Mickey, your friend is right," Mr. Wessell conceded with a sickly sweet smile in Brad's direction. "This is something you should give a lot of thought to." He looked down at his watch, a gasp of surprise leaving his lips. "Oh! It's time for me to open the doors so the folks can come in. Why don't you boys go find your seats and enjoy the movies. There's plenty of time to discuss what you want to do about my offer later."

"Sounds good to me, Wes," Mickey replied with big grin. "I've been waiting a long time to see these two movies, and I'd sure hate to miss 'em!"

As the three men exited the secret room, a dark clad figure morphed out from the shadows, his gloved hand grasping around the remote. A fiendish smile lit up his thin mouth as he mulled over the many different scenarios he could force upon his unsuspecting prey....

And every one of them ended in a drawn out, painful death.


End file.
